Eight Hundred Pages In
by onewritergirl93
Summary: "You know, somebody should be writing this down." "Actually, last time I talked to Bobby, he was holed up in a cabin in Maine. He's 800 pages in." Bobby's POV


**_A/N: Based on extra scenes from Kathryn Erbe's appearance in SVU. I decided not to edit, to just leave it raw and kind of scattered because I think that's kind of how Bobby thinks. Hope it makes sense and I hope you like it! _**

**_"You know, somebody should be writing this down."_****  
****_"Actually, last time I talked to Bobby, he was holed up in a cabin in Maine. He's 800 pages in."_**

_-_

Bobby went to Maine to write. He needed the time away, he really did.

Time away from work, though it had been wonderful being back on the force the past year; time away from the city, the noise and the polluted air and the people; time away from Eames...well, just for now. Just enough to sort out his feelings, his thoughts on where they were, where they were going and whether they should go there. It was too much to handle when his brain was busier than the rush hour traffic outside his apartment. Time away would do him good.

Up in Maine, in the little cabin his captain - _former_ captain, that is; no matter how many times he quit, Bobby would always think like a cop - had told him about, it was quiet. The snow outside created a white protective barrier from the outside world. Quite literally, too, since another six inches had fallen and made it nearly impossible to push the front door wide enough for Bobby to squeeze through. He thought the weather got bad in New York, but their latest snow storm had a been a light dusting compared to this. This was unfortunate, considering that Bobby was running low on food after three weeks shut in. He would have to get the shovel out sooner than later.

But for now, it was quiet.

Secluded.

Perfect for writing down the memories swirling in his head like the flakes by the window.

It was lonely.

Like the tree branch that had snapped under the weight of the snow and was now lying several feet away from its trunk. Like Bobby, it was separated from the only place it had ever known, disconnected from its source of life. From it's "Eames".

Bobby groaned. He had been writing _too_ long if his mind was drawing such..._creative_ parallels.

Of course he missed her. She was his partner, even now that she wasn't his work partner anymore. She was his best friend. He loved her. Really _loved_ her. It had taken a decade to admit it to himself, after his final session with Dr. Gyson. He had planned to go back to her - the doctor that is - until he felt a little more stable in the realization, a little surer of the action he wanted to take. Then he walked out the door and saw Alex - not Eames, but Alex on that day - waiting for him and he made a mental note to cancel the appointment. As long as she looked at him that way, he was as sure as he could be. He was head over heels in love with that woman.

The next several months had been different for them. They were closer, there were more looks that could be called "loving" passed between them. More obvious ones than before, anyway. Then, as they settled back into their routine, Bobby settled back into too many of his old habits. All along, he planned to tell her, let her know that she meant everything to him. He almost said it a few times. But, in true Bobby fashion, he just...didn't. He would come close and then he would do something pig-headed, she would get temporarily irritated and he would convince himself that he was no good for her. Maybe he should've gone to that appointment after all.

It was actually during a particularly good season in their renewed partnership that he left for good. He would never leave when they hit a rough patch, because he didn't want her to think it had anything to do with her. He left for her, not because of her. He never ever wanted to leave her. He wanted to leave the person he was and the man he couldn't be for her. Yet. They were happy when he left, and so very close to something. Closer than ever before.

He got scared and she was blindsided. He explained his logic to her, and she understood. That's how it was with them. Goren and his issues. Eames and her acceptance.

She even made him a basket of goodies for the road, with snacks and maps in case his GPS stopped working, and books on tape. As she said her goodbyes at his apartment the day he left, she gave him a picture of the two of them. She jokingly told him it was so he couldn't forget about her. _As if_. He told her it would serve as inspiration.

She blushed.

He almost stayed.

They hugged for a long time.

He drove away.

He would come back when he could be hers completely.

In the meantime, he would write. And write and write and write. He didn't leave anything out.  
Writing helped. It was healing to rewrite their story. At times it was painful. Healing. Hurting. Healing. Hurting. _Hurting_. He was reliving every moment.

Sure, it was an in-depth study of sorts into the most depraved of minds, but he didn't pretend that was all it was. It was an epic love story.

By page thirty, - including an eight and a half page dedication to her (and only her) that didn't even scratch the surface of what he wanted her to know - he had made it through the first few weeks of their partnership. Back when he was certain she would simply just not show up one morning. Back when he didn't care if she did or not, because it was inevitable. Might as well not get attached. That was an awkward time that he cherished now that it was over. Thank goodness it was over.

On page two hundred and thirteen, they met Nicole Wallace. That was a long chapter.

When he got to the moment that Eames told him about her pregnancy on page three hundred and forty-nine, he smiled. It had been weeks before anyone else knew, and he had been equally honored and dumbfounded. He didn't know what to think of her expecting and how that would affect their jobs, but he was unbelievably proud. She had become a wonderful partner, a close friend and in that moment, she became the most incredible woman on the planet. Still, it wasn't until she was gone on maternity leave (page four hundred and one) that he felt things shifting, at least from his point of view. He ignored it, chalked it up to missing his partner, his sounding board, his co-worker. _Yeah right. _

This morning, when she called him, he had reached page eight hundred.  
A courtroom. That letter. Her almost-betrayal. Tears. Confusion.  
It hurt. More than he thought it should. After all, he had expected it for so long. Still, it surprised him. Her tears surprised him most of all. They broke his heart. It was the end of their partnership as he knew it. Before that day, he was convinced she was perfect. Completely flawless and unwavering in her devotion, her loyalty to him. He was wrong, she was wrong, and they were stronger.  
Forgiveness.  
Yet they were more fragile. Once that crack of fear and doubt was there, once the thought was planted in his head that she might leave, it never really went away. It sent him tumbling. Slowly at first, then faster and faster, destroying everything. Destroying them.

But he wasn't there yet. He hadn't yet reached their lowest point. He wasn't sure he could. Not here alone. And now he was here, had been sitting here since the phone call, staring out the window, reliving briefly, but not writing.

Something changed when he answered that phone. She was the same; sarcasm wrapped in sincerity. He loved listening to her give him an update of the going-ons back in New York. She was working for Homeland Security now and enjoying it. He was glad for that, seeing as it was his fault (again) that she left MCS. She liked her colleagues, but she hadn't met anyone she would consider a "friend" yet. He didn't quite understand why she refused to stay on without him. She was the best detective he knew and MCS was familiar. Maybe that's why she couldn't stay, the memories were too much. That's how he would feel.  
Lost.

Like he did now.

Maybe he should go home. He was dreading the coming pages. He was dreading their downfall. Knowing that they survived and recovered was little consolation without her beside him now. He sighed and mentally travelled back in time again.

Declan and Jo Gage.  
Looking back, this is when his heart discovered that it loved her. It was his ever-troubled (troubling) mind that took years to catch up. He wasn't sure how, because it was so glaringly obvious to him now. The desperation he felt not knowing if she was even alive. Where was she? He had failed her so completely. That desperation that brought to light the truth about what he had called infatuation, a "crush". No. Deep, abiding love. Adoration. Longing. Need. Desperate need. He _would_ fall apart without her. It wasn't a question anymore.  
He shuddered and his heart raced even now. He definitely needed her there, in the flesh, preferably in his arms, if he was ever going to get that memory down on paper. Moving on.

His mother's illness. His brother. His father. His anger. Nicole again. Declan too. His lies, his _actual_ betrayal. Losing Captain Ross. Losing his job (that _look_ in her eyes. That _kiss_). Losing control? Almost.

Bobby stood. He paced. He sat back down, tried to write. But, two pages later, as he reached the end of that day when her letter was used against them, in an attempt to break them, him, only one thing stood out in his mind.

_She stayed._

He was a fool.

Gathering up what little he brought with him, he shoved his weight against the heavy wooden door, clearing enough snow out of the way to squeeze through.

Breathing in the wonderfully crisp air, he savored the feeling of being alive. Of second chances. Trudging through the snow, he made his way to the car parked several yards away. Reality snuck in for a moment when he realized it could be more difficult to get back to the city in this weather, but he didn't care. He had made it through worse conditions. They had overcome _the worst. _He would walk if he had to, but he was going home. To her.

Because their story wasn't over.

They were only eight hundred pages in.


End file.
